Feet First
by Thalius
Summary: Veronica puts in for some shore leave with a bit of ONI recon on the side to keep her busy, but doesn't ever expect to fall in love with a Helljumper.
1. The Swim-Up Bar

**AN:** I swear I write more than just smut for these two constantly, I just always seem to finish these stories first.

* * *

She couldn't remember the last time she danced.

The music was a comforting thrum through her body, and easy to sway along to without much effort. The warmth and the sunlight and the music was almost enough to put her in a trance, really—it may have cost a hell of a lot to get in the club, but damn if it wasn't worth it.

"Drinks are good too," she murmured to herself, uncapping her zero-g proofed fancy bottle to take a sip. The novelty of drinking while working was a pleasure with little diminishing return.

"Then you won't mind if I buy you the next one?"

She turned at the voice, expecting another person to dance too close to her that she'd have to shove away to keep her line of sight clear, but it seemed her target had given himself up rather easily.

Veronica grinned at the man who'd spoken. Flirting with cute marines on the job was another enduring pleasure of fieldwork.

"Careful with that offer," she answered, swaying a little closer to him on the dance floor. "These aren't cheap." She waggled her purple plastic-jewel encrusted bottle at him.

"ODSTs get pretty good leave pay." He matched her swaying to the beat of the music, albeit with the stiff, tense movements of a solider fresh off the boat from hard duty. "So I think I can handle it."

 _Flashing the goods already._ She laughed, just loud enough to be heard above the throb of club music, and saw his eyes twinkle. "Alright then, Helljumper. I'll have a Cape Codder."

Veronica followed him over to the bar, leaning against the heavy marble and watching him hail the barkeep for drinks. He ordered a shot of baijiu for himself, she noted, filing that information away for later.

Then her target turned to face her when he was done ordering, a grin on his face that was a little too tense to be called easy. Normally she'd think it suspicious, but she'd read his psych report; it was the reason she was here, after all.

"So, mister rich ODST," she began, finishing off her drink and sliding the empty bottle away from her. "What's your name?"

"Buck—er, Ed. Eddie," he told her, and she nodded like she didn't know that already. He sat down on a stool and rubbed at his neck. "Still in military mode."

"I know how it goes," she said, waving his concerns off. The bartender came to give them their drinks and collect her empty one, and he drained his in one go.

"Oh yeah? You serve, too?" His eyes watered a little at the bite of the baijiu, but he managed not to cough.

"Certified UNSC Navy." She pulled at her shirt as if it were her dress blues. "Been fighting since '33."

He wrinkled his nose in mock disgust. "You shoulda told me you were a squid _before_ I bought you a drink."

"If anything, _I'm_ the one making a concession here, talking to an ODST." She swept her hair away from her shoulder and leaned on the palm of her hand. "And a newly minted one, at that."

He frowned, rocking back in his seat. "How'd you know that?"

Ah, shit. _Be more careful, idiot._ Veronica jerked her chin at his arm, spying the edge of a tattoo peeking out from his cotton t-shirt. "Ink looks pretty fresh, and I can tell it's a Helljumper tattoo from here."

He was more distracting than she originally thought he'd be, and she needed to be more careful. God, what she _really_ needed was a good lay to clear her head. Maybe he'd be a help in that department, too. _Seems charming enough._

His expression relaxed then, and he turned to look down at it. "Ah, yeah. Got that when I passed basic with my unit about seven months ago, but it feels like I've been stuck in cryo for half that, so—" He shrugged. "Kinda green, yeah." Then he grinned. "I still got you beat for years, though. I enlisted in '28."

She whistled, sounding impressed. "You're an old man, then. You enlist at eighteen?"

He nodded, and waved at the bartender for another shot. "Yep. Got smashed with my—dad and uncle the night of my birthday, then went off to the recruiting office in the morning."

The catch in his voice was easy to miss had she not been paying attention, but that was exactly the thing she'd been looking for. Of course, she couldn't press about his family—this late into the war, all that line of questioning usually got was a dismissive shrug or a hard glare.

So she nodded instead. "Got into the Naval Academy on Luna and graduated at eighteen myself. It's one way to celebrate your birthday."

He huffed a laugh and tipped his head in agreement. The bartender came back with a fresh shot, and Buck nodded at her cup. "How's your drink?"

"Even better now that I didn't pay for it." She took a sip, grinning at him from the lip of the bottle.

"You know, I never did get your name."

"Veronica," she purred back, taking another sip of her drink. The vodka and cranberry—or whatever the bartender was pretending was cranberry—pooled warmly in her belly and made her face heat pleasantly. Mixing that with talking to Eddie, and she felt like she was glowing.

"Veronica," he repeated, the _V_ soft and dropping off in his low voice, making her name sound more like _ronica_. She decided she liked hearing him say it. Quite a lot, actually.

She finished the rest of her drink, sighing at the hot burn it left in her throat. "I don't meet a lot of Helljumpers on Castellaneta," she mused, raising a brow. "You stationed nearby, or visiting from home?"

There it was. She regretted the pained wince on his face, but it was too good an opening to let it slip by. "No," he replied, draining his second shot. "No, just stationed nearby."

"Ah. I won't ask, then."

He waved her off. "It's fine." Then he laughed, a harsh sound with no real humour in it. "Well, it's not _fine_ , but you get what I mean." Buck paused then, as if considering whether to say more. He gave her a measured look before shrugging to himself and continuing. "It was pretty recent. Draco III."

It was her turn to wince. She already knew about that too, of course, but she'd also heard a few too many details about what happened down there not to recoil whenever it was mentioned. "Fuck the Covenant," she offered as a sincere reply, a common response she got from most soldiers when they mentioned their glassed home planet. _I'm sorry_ had worn out its welcome by this point.

"Yeah," he huffed, his gaze focused on the empty shot glass he was fiddling with. "But—forget about that." Eddie forced a smile. "Didn't come here to wallow about it."

She prodded the conversation into lighter territory; maybe she could get work taken care of all in one night. "So, your CO force you here for some down time, too, then? Threaten you with a psych leave?" Her own boss hadn't said it in so many words, but she'd gone ten months since her last leave, and command had all but thrust her into a shuttle off to this tourist trap with vague instructions to get some info on the ODST's mental state.

He chuckled and looked up at her. "Yeah, actually. Said I was jeopardizing the team."

"Heard that a few times before." Mostly for different reasons, but it was relatable nonetheless. "Higher-ups don't want you rebelling against them in righteous fury or anything."

He shrugged. "More like running into a bullet when I'm not paying attention and getting myself killed. Besides," he continued, rolling the shot glass around in his fingers. "I'm not an idiot. I know who the enemy is."

 _Bingo_. Veronica laid a hand on his arm then, sensing the conversation was about to take a sensitive turn—she got what she needed for now, anyway. Now it was time to have some fun. "I propose a new rule."

"What's that?"

"No more work talk," she offered, and the grin he gave her was infectious. "They gave you that leave money to blow on hot dates for a reason."

He sidled closer to her in his seat, his grin a lot less stiff now. "I like that rule, Just Veronica."

* * *

Veronica was surprised they managed to talk for as long as they did. They broke their no-work-talk rule a few times to brag about some of their crazier assignments—which she kept as close to the truth as possible, sans anything about her direct involved with ONI, because nothing killed a conversation faster than mentioning her spook status—and because there were only so many things two seasoned soldiers could discuss that didn't hit a traumatised nerve or relate to their respective careers.

The constant warm sunlight glowing in the distance made it seem like no time had passed at all, but a glance at her watch told her they'd chatted for almost four hours. By the time they'd blown through half a dozen topics—movies, music, shore leave parties, the occasional pant-shitting mission, how annoying brass was, and some politics thrown in for good measure—she hadn't been able to take it any longer and invited him back to her hotel room. Buck had seemed almost surprised at the offer, as if he'd forgotten his original intent for hitting her up, but quickly recovered and told her to lead the way after he paid their tab.

Sex with ODSTs was usually an experience, and Eddie was no different.

Her skirt was forgotten on the floor, too much of a barrier to straddling Buck on the mattress. His hands were already under her shirt, searching for the release on her bra while she focused her efforts on kissing him senseless. Her own palms slid under his t-shirt; he was just as toned and fit as he looked. She sighed into his mouth appreciatively, and he responded by gripping her waist hard and pulling her flush against his hips.

"Take—your fucking _pants_ off," she huffed, pulling away from his mouth just long enough to protest.

He gave a breathless laugh. "Then _you_ take your shirt and bra off."

"Deal."

Veronica rose up on her knees just enough for him to reach for his zipper, and made good on his request. Her shirt and bra joined her skirt on the floor in no time, and Eddie kicked his jeans off with a hurried determination that would have made her laugh if she weren't so turned on.

He was fumbling with his boxers when she slipped a hand under the fabric to grab a hold of him. His answering groan fanned the embers burning between her legs, and he immediately reached up to kiss her again.

She kept a light grip on his cock and kissed him back, threading her free hand through his hair. She moaned into his mouth when he roughly palmed at her breasts, and her hand tightened on him in response. The stroke of her fingers was really only meant to tease as opposed to actually satisfy, but after a minute or so of trading messy kisses with him while he rubbed at her aching breasts, Buck all of a sudden pitched forward and pressed his face into her neck, a low mutter of "oh god, _fuck,"_ whispered against her skin as he held her close and came. The shiver that ran down his body was enough to shake the mattress, but she kept her hand wrapped tight around him until he was spent and sagging into her embrace. Marines fresh off the boat from duty getting set off early wasn't all that uncommon, so she'd give him the benefit of the doubt for now.

He recovered quickly, though, and pulled away to look at her, face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and satisfaction. "Ah, shit, Veronica, I'm sorry—"

She nodded, breathing hard. "S'okay."

Eddie grabbed for his shirt, which was tossed behind him, and wiped at the mess on her fingers and the skin of his abdomen. He let out a low breath once they were cleaned up and pulled her close. She wrapped her arms around him, arching into his body and relishing the burning points of contact wherever their skin met.

They sat like that for a moment while he collected himself, breathing hard and pressing surprisingly soft kisses against her collarbone and neck and the tops of her breasts. Then he shifted, keeping her close while he turned them around and laid her on the bed.

He kissed her again, less frenzied this time but more focused. A hand massaged at her breast while the other slipped down between her legs. His fingers slipped easily under the thin fabric of her underwear, and— _god_ , okay, maybe he _did_ know what he was doing.

She let out a whimper that she would later deny ever making when his fingers slid over her clit. It felt _good,_ but he was rubbing just a bit too hard for her liking.

"Ease up a bit," she breathed into his ear, and his answer came in the form of a more gentle but no less insistent rub of his fingers. Veronica arched up into his hand, rolling her hips with its rhythm. She was _burning_ , the touch not enough and too much all at once, making her writhe against his hand.

Buck moved down the length of her body then, trailing his lips along the lines of muscle and breast and bone until his mouth met up with his fingers. He needed only small amounts of guidance before she was pulling at his hair and twining her legs around his shoulders and muffling some of her louder moans into the pillow. She quickly came undone, even as she wanted to drag it out and make it last, because he sure as _hell_ knew what he was doing.

When the aftershocks began to subside, she sagged boneless into the mattress, trying to catch her breath. Eddie pulled himself up and rolled onto the pillow beside her, wiping at his mouth and trying to calm down his own breathing. For a minute the only the sound was the rough exhale of air from the pair of them, and Veronica took that time to gather her scattered thoughts.

 _Best gig ever._

She snorted at that, a sudden undignified sound that made Buck look over at her. "What?" he asked, and grabbed for her hand.

She squeezed his fingers, shaking her head on the pillow. "Nothing, just… good. Yeah, good."

It was his turn to laugh. "I'm glad," he murmured.

"You good?" She snuck a peek at him over the poofy hill of her pillow.

He tightened his grip on her hand, grinning. "Oh yeah. I _swear_ that's not a regular thing, though."

She raised a brow. "You know, that's what most guys say."

He rolled onto his side. "Yes but _I'm_ telling the truth."

"I'll take your word for it." She pulled their untwined hands up off the bed to look at them. "I get it, though. I _do,"_ she insisted when he rolled his eyes. She tugged at his fingers, running a thumb over the callouses worn into his skin. "You go _weeks—_ even months—with people only ever touching you to stick a knife in you or patch you up. Then, if by some miracle you find someone who actually _wants_ to touch you, it's like…." She trailed off, not sure how to put it.

"Like you're on fire," he supplied, and she nodded.

"Yeah." She pulled at their hands to tug him closer, and pressed her face into his shoulder. "So I'll say this one's on the house."

Eddie laughed and tucked her into his side. "How gracious," he murmured. "And I'll prove my point if you give me about twenty minutes."

"I'll set my alarm then," she whispered into his skin, enjoying the natural, pleasant smell of him. "For now, we can take a power nap."

* * *

 **AN:** Buck mentions in _New Blood_ that Veronica was assigned to look out for him while on shore leave, so this is a smutty and overly fluffy explanation for her tailing him on Castellaneta. This will likely have one or two more chapters to it, since I've already almost finished the second one, and will be just as fluffy and devoid of significant plot as the first chapter.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed!


	2. The Hotel Room

A helljumper who was also a cuddler was something of a rare combination in her experience, but she couldn't deny the appeal—especially given that she was currently tangled up with one in her bed.

It was late, but the light from the planet's many satellites came in bright enough through her room's glass balcony door that they could see in the darkness of the suite. Eddie was busy playing with her hair, pulling threads of blonde through his fingers. Their earlier desperate race to jump each other's bones had finally run its course—for the time being, at least—and now she was grateful to enjoy the comparatively less rushed lounging in bed. Buck hadn't mentioned anything about leaving, so she'd enjoy however long he intended to stay here, whether that was a few more hours or the rest of their week off.

Right now, though, he didn't appear to have any immediate plans on going back to his own room. "Is this your natural hair colour?" he asked, rolling a strand of her hair around his thumb.

She adjusted her head on his shoulder to get more comfortable. "Yeah, why?"

"'s pretty, is all. Lights up when the moon touches it."

She smiled into his skin. "I blame all the swedes that colonised Actium for it. I'm about as fair as they come."

He pulled back to look at her. "You're from Actium?"

She nodded, and his face pulled together in a frown. "I'm sorry."

She shrugged it off, pulling him back down onto the pillow. "It's alright. My family were all stationed in different places when it was glassed, so we were lucky." Her father had died a month later during a naval battle, but she didn't bother to add that.

"Still hurts, though." He let out a tired sigh, and then echoed her earlier sentiments. "Fuck the Covenant."

She couldn't help but agree. "Yeah."

"So that's why you're on leave, too, then." He resumed playing with her hair, and she leaned into the soft pressure of his fingers.

"More or less. Stress of the job, and all that. Been a rough few years for everyone," she added, trying to steer the conversation away from work. "Both my CO and I figured I could use a break, so here I am."

He nodded, his chin brushing her head with the movement. They were quiet then, but it was a nice silence, especially with his hand twirling through her hair. She took to tracing the ink of his other tattoo—a simple date carved in block letters on his right pectoral. _5.18.2545._ Draco III had been glassed almost at the same time as Actium, but she figured a "we've got that in common, too" joke might not fly over very well.

She poked him in the shoulder instead, prompting him to look down at her. "Got any other plans for your leave?"

He grinned. "Original action plan was to find someone pretty to hit up at the bar, but I guess that's already taken care of." His arm tightened around her. "So no, my schedule is clear right now."

She nodded, letting out a yawn. "Okay—good. That's good."

"Guess that means you're not kicking me out."

"Mm. Not yet at least. You're a good space heater."

He chuckled at that. "Good, I'm glad to hear that."

Her face split into a silly grin, and she tried to stifle just how happy she was that he had no qualms about staying the night. "Sleep first, though. We've already burned through the power nap."

"It was for a good cause."

Veronica hummed. "Yes. You proved your point very well."

"Eh, it was alright."

She pulled her head up to look at him, and he was grinning in the moonlight. "Oh, _just_ alright, he says after telling me 'Veronica, I think you made my heart explo—'"

He pressed his fingers into her sides then, resorting to tickling because he quite _obviously_ did not have a good comeback. The tactic was nonetheless effective; she collapsed into undignified giggles and gave a hearty attempt at trying to wriggle away from him. There were several ways she knew how to easily incapacitate him, but they all involved immediate medical intervention if he wanted to continue testing the limits of his heart, so she was left with punching him in the arm instead.

He relented after the third punch, rolling away from her with a muttered "ow". She huffed and sat up, swiping the hair out of her face and watching him rub at his bicep.

"You hit hard for someone so tiny," he grumbled, though he sounded impressed.

She raised a brow. "You don't live this long pulling your punches."

"Even when punching your charming one-night stand?"

She shrugged. "Gotta give everyone a fair shot." Veronica swung her legs around to push herself off the bed. "And you're welcome to be more than a one-night stand. I have a whole week free," she called, heading to the bathroom.

Buck's answer was put on hold as she went to go pee and clean up for bed. When she came back out a few minutes later, he'd gotten up and moved to look outside the balcony, with the door opened a few centimetres to let in cool night air. She came up behind him, slipping an arm around his waist, and he smiled down at her.

"Was that a serious offer?" he asked. He had a decent poker face, but she saw the hopeful gleam in his eyes.

She bumped her shoulder against his. "I don't make idle threats."

He chuckled. "I didn't take you for someone who did."

Veronica looked up at him and raised her free hand to grab at his. "Shake on it, then?"

He gave her an incredulous look, clearly amused. "Do all swabbies make official pacts with their shore leave fuck buddies?"

"Well, what do marines do?" she asked, humouring him.

He grinned and pulled against him. "We just get down to business." Eddie bent down to kiss her, and she leaned into his mouth.

"For my peace of mind," she murmured around his lips after a moment, smiling. "Can you—"

He grabbed her hand and shook it, laughing into her mouth. "Good?"

"Yeah," she whispered, pulling away to guide them back towards the cozy bed. "Good."

* * *

As always, work woke her.

Her comm buzzed on the nightstand, and she had to twist around Eddie's grip on her waist to be able to reach it. God, he was warm.

The harsh light of her comm chilled her quickly enough, though. She sat up, gently setting his arm down beside him—he looked dead to the world in only the way ODSTs could manage—and she opened the message she'd received.

 _How's leave treating you?_

There was no sender ID, but she knew well enough who it was—and what they were really asking. _Good. And he's still as loyal to the empire as ever,_ she sent back, smiling to herself.

The response came back a moment later, and she could almost see her CO grinning. _Enjoy the rest of your leave, Dare, and keep me updated._

The translation of that was: _keep an eye on him anyway._

She sent back an all-green and then tossed her comm back on the table. _That_ wasn't really going to be a problem, she thought, looking over at a sleeping, contented Buck twisted up in the bed sheets.

Now that business was taken care of, she forced herself out of bed and shuffled into the bathroom. The reflection in the mirror that greeted her was a dishevelled mess. Her hair was wild and tangled, and her lipstick no longer neatly lined her mouth. She frowned at her appearance; she'd never been able to pull off the soft "woke up from a night of great sex" look very well.

Veronica fiddled with her hair for a few minutes before giving up and just getting into the shower. The water stung in several sensitive spots on her skin, battle wounds from the previous night's festivities, but she relished the warm, private shower all the same.

Jesus, Eddie Buck. He'd been surprisingly sweet for a Helljumper, especially for a soldier as seasoned as he was. Most ODSTs she knew were hard and cold and mean, and not much for talkers. They gave ONI agents a run for their money in the icy stares department.

Not Buck, though. The fall of his home planet had turned him vulnerable and soft, not angry and cold, which was ONI's main concern. Soldiers who served that long could easily begin to hate the military for not protecting their kin.

She was grateful on a selfish level that he seemed to have counted the fall of Draco III as more of a personal failure than the fault of the UNSC. She could give brass the go-ahead on giving him command of his own squad, and well, meeting a genuinely sweet person this late into the war was a unique pleasure.

Veronica finished off her shower and slipped on the fairly clean pajama shirt she'd left on her hotel bathroom floor. She clipped up her wet hair and let it air dry, and stepped back into the bedroom. Buck was still passed out, so she called in an order of breakfast from the front desk and slipped on some shorts, then touched up the smudged day-old makeup she hadn't bothered to wash off while she waited for him to wake up.

He was finally coming around when room service showed up, and sat up to rub at his eyes just as she set down a tray of pancakes and coffee on the tiny kitchenette counter.

"Morning, sleeping beauty," she said in greeting, dumping two sugar packets into her coffee and taking a sip.

He blinked, looking confused at where he was. Then his gaze settled on her and his face split into a contagious grin. "Hey." His hair was similarly mussed, but the cowlick upturned from his forehead was adorable rather than unsightly.

"There's coffee and breakfast here for you, if you want some." She nodded to the tray, trying not to look too distracted by how _great_ he looked. "And I have some ibuprofen in my bag if you have a hangover."

He laughed at that. "I would've died a long time ago if I couldn't handle a few drinks." Then he tossed off the covers to head to the bathroom, stretching and groaning and giving her a wonderful view before disappearing into the washroom.

She left him to his morning ablutions while she picked at the fruit on the breakfast tray and sipped at her coffee. Pink sunlight filtered in through the big glass door at the back of the room, casting the whole room in a warm glow. The door was still open, allowing in a warm, salty breeze off the beachfront. The scene was idyllic enough that she could almost convince herself there wasn't a galactic war raging beyond the sky.

Buck came out ten minutes later, showered and wearing last night's clothes—minus his shirt, the first casualty of the night. He took her by surprise by sliding an arm around her waist, and she resisted the inherent instinct to break his hand. Getting away from work habits could be hard sometimes.

"G'morning," he mumbled, pressing his face into her shoulder. She craned her head to look behind her, and felt the dampness of his hair on her cheek.

"It is, isn't it?"

He grabbed his coffee and fixed it up how he liked—one milk, one sugar—and settled beside her against the kitchen counter.

"Sleep okay?" he asked, reaching for a fork and cutting off a piece of pancake to eat.

She grinned over the rim of her mug. " _Very_ well. Looks like you did, too. But then I've seen ODSTs sleep on top of their own pods, so I shouldn't be surprised."

He laughed around a mouthful for pancake, then made contented noises at how tasty the food was. They ate for a few minutes in comfortable silence, and she noted with appreciation that he liked quiet in the mornings, too.

 _Stop that._

"So," she began, breaking the silence to escape the lead ball curling in her belly. "What's on the agenda for today?"

He raised a brow. "Agenda?" he muffled, then swallowed his mouthful of pancake. "If there's an itinerary, I haven't read it." He nodded his head from side to side, considering her question. "But I guess I'd like to take you out to the other bars around town."

"You want to go to a bar at nine in the morning?" she asked amusedly.

Buck grinned. "Well, there's other stuff to do at the bars. Like float around and play overpriced arcade games." He sidled closer to her against the counter, blue eyes warm and playful. "If you wanna wait 'til a little later to go out, though, we can stay here."

His head ducked down to reach for her mouth, and she tilted her face up to meet him halfway. She set her coffee down next to them so she had a free hand to tangle up in his hair, and he quickly pulled her flush against him. He tasted like pancakes and mouthwash, an odd but not unpleasant combination.

Then his mouth moved to her neck, and she couldn't help the sigh that escaped her. "And do what here?" she whispered, trying her best to sound nonchalant. The arm she had wrapped around his neck and the hand sliding down to grab his ass made her casual tone sound unconvincing, but she was far too eager to pull him close to keep up the act.

His answer was to palm his hand in between her legs, over her flimsy shorts, and she let out a gasp. "I can think of a few things," he whispered. Then she felt him grin into her skin. "Wanna watch a movie? Heard there's a couple new good ones out."

She was far too turned on by that point to bother replying, instead just pulling him closer and running a hand over the front of his jeans. His answering groan was enough to end the conversation, and their breakfast sat forgotten while they made use of the counter as a convenient place to pass the time.


	3. The Beach Front

Happy Valentine's day y'all! Here's a shitload of angst!

* * *

Veronica found herself counting down the days to when their leave ended. Not because she couldn't wait to ship off back to work, but because she felt a growing despair with each passing day that she probably would not ever see Buck again.

They spent every moment they could together, alternating between long hours spent lounging and making love in one of their hotel rooms and hitting up all the overpriced, flashy tourist attractions Castellaneta had to offer. Bars, pool halls, museums, arcades, ball games; all of it done attached at the hip. Then they'd go back to one of their rooms and stay up until neither of them could keep their eyes open. Rinse and repeat.

And it was—God, it was _fun._ They talked for hours about everything and nothing; they drank too much and stayed up too late and had sex until both of them were horribly saddle sore. She hadn't ever had so much fun on shore leave—or anywhere, really—in her life. Granted, she'd spent her entire career at war, but it had to count for something, right?

Eddie seemed to be cognisant of their dwindling time, too—with each morning they woke up to, his kisses became more desperate and his embrace a little tighter. She seriously considered abusing her newly-appointed captain's rank and ONI privileges to persuade the brass into extending both of their shore leaves for an extra week. She'd have to brown nose a bit to make up for it, but seven days with Buck wasn't nearly enough time. Hell, she could spend _months_ on this planet, doing nothing but drinking and laughing and getting to know another person like she hadn't ever allowed herself before. They'd _earned_ it after all these years of fighting, hadn't they?

It was on day five of their leave that she decided against it.

They were on the boardwalk, fingers twined between them as they poked around the shops and stalls lined up against the docks. It was warm enough that they could walk around in shorts and tanks, and Veronica made sure to take full advantage of appreciating all the exposed skin from Eddie—and show off some of her own.

She was debating on whether or not to pull him towards the beach for a swim when Buck suddenly perked up, voice dying mid-sentence. He was looking over at a food stand, a wry grin on his face.

"What?"

"Come on," he told her, tugging them towards the stall. She had no choice but to follow him, his grip on her hand warm and insistent.

The shop he pulled them in front of was a small, brightly painted stall that sold seafood. _All caught this morning!_ assured the sign overhead, and she had to admit that the sizzling spears on the grill smelled _really_ good. Buck asked for two orders of what looked like seafood lunch wraps, then found them a seat on some rocks by the beach front.

Veronica peeled back the paper wrapped around her meal, inspecting the food. Fried vegetables and seafood and spices were all packed into a wrap that looked like it was made out of something like rice paper. Eddie had already dug into his, munching contentedly, and she took a bite of her own.

Flavour exploded in her mouth, tangy and salty and crunchy, and she hummed in surprise. "This—" she finished off her bite. "This is _fantastic._ How'd you know to get this?"

He grinned, happy that she liked it. "Had similar stuff back home. Lived on the coast as a kid. Can't get fresher seafood than that."

She nodded, making quick work of her wrap. Most food tasted heavenly after any length of time spent on ships, where the only things to eat were dried rations and heavily processed meals, but this was particularly good. Veronica finished her lunch off far too quickly, and scrunched up the paper still dripping with excess juices. Okay, maybe she'd go order another, and _then_ float around in the water with Buck.

The sun burned bright overhead, warming her shoulders. They'd both gone a few shades darker by now, but Eddie tanned much better than she did. She rolled her head on her neck, relishing the fact that the seemingly ever-present knots and seized muscles cramping her neck and shoulders were—for once—absent. Maybe her CO had been onto something when he all but forced her to take some leave. Copious amounts of sex and drinking were doing wonders for her stress levels.

"So, you fish a lot as a kid?" It took her a moment to realise her mistake, but the question was out before she had the chance to ask it more tactfully. She pressed a napkin to her mouth as if that would help push the words back in, annoyed that she'd slipped up— _again._ _Drinking and sex also apparently makes you forget how to be a spook._

He froze at her question, a faraway look clouding over his face, and she put a hand on his arm, feeling guilty. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"It's good," he murmured, blinking hard and shaking his head. He gave a wistful look. "Really."

"You don't have to."

He waved her off. "No one else'll remember if I don't talk about it." Buck cleared his throat, nodding his head as if deciding something. "But… yeah, I was a fisherman, mostly. Or wanted to be one. My uncle owned a decent sized boat with a crew of about a dozen, and I'd spend my summers out on the sea with him catching octowhales. God, it was fun," he sighed, leaning against the wood railing behind them. The faraway look came back in his expression, bittersweet this time. "Wanted to do it for the rest of my life."

"Then the war started," she concluded quietly.

"Then the war started," he repeated, nodding. "But being a Marine isn't so bad, either, so it's not a total loss." He grabbed the hand she'd laid on his arm, running a thumb over her knuckles. "What about you? Do anything before all this—" he said, gesturing at the sky. "Started?"

"I was only ten when the Covenant showed up, so not really." She shrugged her shoulders. "Wanted to be a veterinarian when I grew up, though. Now I'm a—" _a spook_ , she almost said, but caught herself before she slipped a second time. A dozen years of training were being stripped bare by someone she'd met less than a week ago.

She tried not to think about that too much, either.

"An officer?" he offered, saying it like it was a dirty word and pulling her out of her thoughts.

She smiled. She could give him the partial truth, at least. "A captain."

He rocked back in his seat at that, brows climbing nearly to his hairline. "Holy shit, really?"

"Just got promoted, actually. I don't command a ship or anything, just—do paperwork and make the important calls." And gather intelligence, both internal and external. And lie to really nice people like Eddie about what she actually did for a living.

"Squid stuff, yeah." He rubbed at his forehead. "Jesus. Feel like I should be calling you ma'am now."

She shot him a warning look. "Don't you dare. I'm on leave so people _stop_ calling me that."

He grinned, though he looked almost _shy_ —or maybe just nervous that he found out he was screwing a high-ranking naval officer. "Just a surprise. Didn't know you were so high up on the ladder."

She leaned into him, resting against the railing. "Been serving for twelve years. About goddamn time I made captain."

He chuckled at that. "Well I'm glad there's some level-headed people in charge, at least. Prefer to just aim a gun and pull the trigger, myself."

She looked over her shoulder at him, giving him a look. "How do you know I'm a good squid? For all you know, I could be one of those officers who sit on their ass all day and complain about how loud Marines are."

He let out a snort. "Somehow I doubt that." His arm settled over her shoulders. "I'm just glad you don't have some power fetish or anything."

She raised a brow. "Sounds like there's a story behind that."

He grimaced. "Not a fun one. Met a lieutenant fresh out of ROTC at a bar once. She seemed normal enough until we went back to her hotel room." His frown deepened, and he paused—possibly to collect himself after recalling the horrific night, or for dramatic effect. Veronica bet the latter. "She wanted to do some freaky shit."

"Like?"

"She wanted me to wear a collar and get down on all fours—you know the shock ones people use on dogs?" He shook his head. "Dunno what else she wanted to do since I ducked out pretty quick after that, but she had a whole suitcase filled with... stuff. I don't even know _how_ she got all of it unless she had it stored away somewhere before going through training."

Veronica let out a hard snort that she would later deny ever making, and laughed into shoulder. She felt his chest vibrate as he laughed along with her. It was the kind of simple, happy memory that she'd carefully file away for her low moments—which, well, she had a lot of these days. It felt _good_ to just laugh for once _,_ and in the warm light of the sun with the sound of Eddie chuckling in ear, she realised then in no uncertain terms that she was going to fall in love with him if they spent any extra time together.

And that, above all else, was not a choice she could afford to make.

* * *

Images, sharp and bright and glistening, flickered like macabre flash cards beneath her eyelids. The nightmare she was having had no real form; it morphed from the gleam of a talon to the soft pierce of an open red wound to charred glass and harsh winds over the dead ground. It woke her up breathless and limb-locked nonetheless, her hand slipping towards the bedside where she kept her gun, until she realised they were in Eddie's room tonight and she had hidden it between the frame of the bed instead.

She was still debating reaching for it—to feel in control and make the shadows in the room seem less fearsome, if nothing else—when Buck woke up.

"What's wrong?" His voice was clear, with the precision and alertness of a person trained to wake on command. His hand found her shoulder, and she suppressed the urge to shove away at the contact. It was just Eddie. She didn't need to push him away.

"Just—just a shitty dream," she whispered, taking a deep breath. She waved her hand in the dark. "I'm good." Veronica was more awake now, and shuffled closer to him. She felt cold, and he was wonderfully warm.

He nodded, pulling her against his side with a strong grip. She willingly ducked into the cover of his arm, ignoring how bad of an idea it was to let him comfort her. He was good at it, too; his hand found its way to her hair again, running gentle fingers over her scalp, while his other arm kept her snug against his chest. He didn't say anything, but the even, slow rise and fall of his ribs was soothing. Her ear was pressed just below his collarbone, and she could easily hear his heartbeat. Strong and reliable and sure.

And so easily stopped.

Veronica pressed closer at the thought, forcing down the lump growing in her throat. He was a newly minted ODST about to be given command of a squad during the most brutal war humanity has ever faced. There was no scenario or set of conditions she could imagine where she'd ever consider betting against his odds of survival. He'd be lucky to make it another year at the rate the Covenant were glassing planets and destroying fleets. It was reckless and irresponsible of her to get this close to anyone now, _especially_ a front-line trooper.

She clung all the more tightly to him anyway.

It wasn't too late to contact her CO and tell him Buck wasn't ready for a command position. Her assessment of him wouldn't be questioned, and he'd stay safer that way, at least for a little while—

 _No._

"D'you want anything?" he murmured, running a hand up and down her back. "Don't have much in the hotel room, but I can order something if you like."

"No," she replied, feeling sick. "I'm okay. Just wanna… wanna go back to sleep."

"'Course."

She somehow managed to drift back into unconsciousness. Buck continued to play with her hair and run his fingers over her skin and breathe in calm, reassuring, _living_ breaths. It was as soothing as it was a horrible reminder that the warm, sweet person holding her close likely wouldn't make it to the end of the war, whatever that end happened to be.

Two more days they had together. She'd make the most of their time until then, and try her best to ignore the unfortunate reality that Eddie was going to die long before they'd ever chance meeting in a more peaceful time.

* * *

Special thanks to foxinwhiteroses on tumblr for helping me edit this chapter!


	4. The Waffles and the Table

Final chapter! This features the sort-of break-up scene in between them in _New Blood_ , but I decided to remix the dialogue a little to keep it interesting.

Thanks again to foxinwhiteroses on tumblr for helping me edit this one, too! Enjoy!

* * *

Veronica woke alert and on edge, with two observations immediately coming to the fore; it was her final day of leave, and the bed was empty.

She sat up in alarm and looked at the clock, frowning at how early it was. Straining her senses, she held her breath to better listen for where Buck had gone. She couldn't hear anyone moving around in the kitchen or bathroom, and his clothes and shoes were gone from the floor. She hadn't even heard him get up.

It was his last day of leave, too. Had Buck left already? Taken an earlier transport to beat the rush? He didn't really have any luggage either, so a quick getaway wouldn't require much effort. They had ended up in his hotel, but it was easy enough for him to check out remotely after she left.

Veronica sagged against the bedframe, pushing the hair out of her eyes. Maybe that was for the best; no awkward goodbyes or hopeful wishes of seeing each other again at the airport. It was neater this way. Quick and painless.

She repeated that lie to herself as she got up and confirmed Buck was nowhere to be found—no messages on Waypoint from him either, not even a quick "had fun, thanks for the sex," and she didn't know whether to be concerned by his sudden disappearance or pissed off she hadn't anticipated him taking the easy way out of this… whatever they'd been doing together for the past week. She didn't even know him well enough to figure out if this was typical behaviour for him or not. She could message him to clear it up, sure, but if he _had_ run off, she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of being chased.

Veronica heaved a sigh and resigned herself to a hot shower, trying not to think about it too hard or be overly disappointed that she couldn't get in a few extra lays before jumping back into hell. She'd decide what to do about his absence after she was fully awake. For now, she was just pleased that the shower head could be put to good use. Her private quarters were generally nice wherever she was stationed, but detachable shower heads weren't usually included in the package.

Fifteen minutes later found her drying her hair and feeling a little less tense. Veronica adjusted her mental agenda to accommodate for the sudden lack of Buck, deciding that a spiked coffee and overly sweet breakfast was the most pressing matter to attend to. She would have been notified had his departure been part of her job, and he would have—maybe, probably—left a note if he intended on coming back. Occam's Razor didn't often fail her, so operating under the assumption that he was gone was the safest and easiest.

 _Just not the least painful._

She dressed and grabbed her comm, typing in the order for the hotel to deliver. She would eat and have her coffee and figure out how to spend the last few hours of her leave—all easy goals. There was an actual paper bookstore in the university district not far from the hotel, and reading something that _wasn't_ a debrief or intelligence report would be a nice change. Some light reading material would get her through the next few months until her next leave—whenever the hell _that_ was going to be.

Veronica was scrolling through the last of the breakfast options when she heard someone open the door. Fighting down the instinct to grab for her gun and sidle the wall, she looked around the bathroom doorway into the main room instead.

Buck had his back turned to her, unloading food out of a plastic bag onto the kitchenette counter and whistling some unidentifiable tune. Her heart swooped down to her stomach in palpable relief, and _not_ because he wasn't some intruder she'd have to deal with and then file an incident report form for. She mentally kicked herself for feeling so goddamn _happy_ that he hadn't actually dashed off, and took a deep breath to calm her nerves.

"Hey," she called, tossing her hair towel onto the toilet seat and walking towards him. "What uh, are you doing? I wondered where you'd gone," she continued, pretending like she hadn't just pegged him for a runaway.

God, maybe she really did need more time away from work.

He looked over his shoulder and grinned, then ducked to give her a quick kiss that felt far too domestic for her liking. "Sorry, you're usually not up this early. Thought I'd be back before you woke."

"You keep track of when I wake up?" She tried to sound nonchalant, but her voice was a bit too strained to pass for normal. It would have been so much easier if he'd disappeared. She could've just shoved any of her extraneous emotional attachment into a neat little box at the back of her brain, and not have to deal with _any_ of this.

He shrugged, turning back to the bags on the counter. "Not on paper or anything, you just have a pretty good routine." Buck flashed her a smile. "Plus you waking up usually means fantastic shit is about to happen, so I make a habit of checking the clock."

Veronica laughed, some of the tension dissolving at his answer, and moved to stand beside him. "What'd you buy?" She poked at the bags, frowning at the grocery store logo on the front. "You got store bought food? That you have to assemble?"

His hand reached up to scratch at the stubble on his chin, and she swore he looked sheepish. "It's our last day until shipping off, so I wanted to do something special for breakfast. I've been told I make excellent waffles."

She nodded, doing her best to look outwardly pleased. And she _was,_ because Eddie was making them breakfast and she was about to get waffles, but they were back to domestic again and it felt like such a _couple_ thing to do, which was the exact thing she'd been trying to avoid.

"Is that okay?" he asked, breaking what had become an uncomfortable silence. She met his eyes and found that she couldn't say no to him, not when he looked so open and excited to do something nice for them on their last day.

"Of course," she said a bit too quietly, and then cleared her throat. "What do you want me to do?"

He grinned and pulled her against him, skimming his nose over the plane of her cheek. "Stand there and look pretty while I make food."

Veronica hummed in approval and tossed an arm over his neck. "I think I can manage that," she murmured. His cooking plans were put on hold when she stood on her toes to kiss him, but their schedule could allow for a delay—especially for something even more important than food.

* * *

"So, should we split the cost of the table?" Buck asked an hour later, frowning at the unfortunate casualty lying splintered on the kitchen floor. Since the counter had been so rudely occupied by waffle ingredients, the small dining table had been the next available horizontal surface for them to lean on. While it was adequate for holding paper plates and beer bottles, it most certainly could not accommodate two very fit, very horny UNSC personnel.

Veronica scooped up a mouthful of waffle from her plate, considering his proposal. They were stationed on the floor beside the coffee table, eating what were probably the best waffles she'd had in her life. She nudged his arm and finished off her third waffle, putting her plate on the table for a moment. "Technically," she began around her mouthful of breakfast. "We're in _your_ hotel room, so damages rendered are under your insurance." That earned an indignant look from Eddie. "You said ODSTs get the big bucks anyway."

"Yeah, but it's still not officer pay. I also paid for _and_ cooked the food," he added, nodding his head to their plates. "So I think this one is on you, ma'am."

"What did I say about calling me that?" She stood up to clear away her dishes, tossing the paper plate in the waste bin in the kitchen and licking off the extra syrup on her plastic fork before disposing it in the receptacle.

"To not," he replied. "But it's kinda hot, especially when you're standing there naked licking cutlery."

She raised a brow over her shoulder at him and laughed when she saw his eyes were _not_ on her face. "Oh, so you do like the whole power sex thing, then? Want me to go buy you a collar while you call me captain?"

His face immediately scrunched up in disgust, and he shoved a large piece of waffle into his mouth to comfort himself. "Ugh, no," he mumbled. "Okay, no more ma'ams."

"Good." She walked back over and sat down beside him, waiting for him to finish. "I'll be hearing it again soon enough, anyway."

He nodded, sobering a little at the mention of work. "Where you stationed?"

"On the _Morose_ , out by the Leonis system." Where she was _actually_ stationed was classified, but the lie was harmless and necessary. "You?"

"The _Gaia,_ running DA on whatever colony they blast us to." He sat back against the armrest of the couch and let out a sigh. "The hard and dirty stuff, but it beats long-range recon. Get to shoot some bugs and then fly back once you've fucked up their day to command's liking."

The mention of combat made her shimmy closer to him on the floor. His arm went to wrap around her waist, and her head fit awfully well in the crook of his shoulder. Buck laughed then, a silent breath of air through his nose. "Probably be getting yelled at through my helmet by some squid this time tomorrow," he mused, though he didn't sound too concerned about it.

She smiled into his skin, where she didn't have to hide the sad wobble of her mouth. "I could yell at you now, if you'd like. For practice."

"Mmm," he hummed. "I could give you a good reason to yell."

"Again, already?" Buck was silent at that, and she snuck a peek at him. "Not that I'm objecting, just—surprised." She grinned. "I'll be impressed if you can walk after another round like _that."_ Veronica shot a pointed look to the remains of the table still lying on the floor.

Instead of flashing her his usual goofy grin, he turned and pressed his nose into her hair. "Might as well. Not gonna be doing this again any time soon."

The realisation that this really was going to be the last hour they spent together—probably forever—finally sank in. Her response was to slide into his lap and press a hard kiss to his mouth that he instantly melted into, pulling her close enough to make her ribs creak and kissing her back with a ferocity she hadn't felt from him before.

They took their time now, stretching every kiss and touch out for as long as either of them could bear. She'd done it before, with other people she'd met on shore leave; dragged out the last time together, to make it last as long as possible. It was a good memory to warm her only lonely nights, if nothing else, but this time felt different—like _everything_ did with him. Whether that was because she had accumulated a great deal of personal attachment to Buck, or because she sensed the same thing from him, she couldn't tell.

He kept her close, making sure there was as little space as possible between them at all times. They both finally found the end when neither of them could take holding it off any longer, shaking in each other's arms until the waves subsided and the aftershocks settled.

They'd managed to move off the floor and onto the bed at some point. The sheets were a little sweaty, but that was easily remedied by pulling close together and moving to the dry side of the mattress. Veronica rested her head on his shoulder, foregoing the pillows, and held onto Eddie. They had to leave soon; she should be getting dressed and packing what little bags she had.

Or maybe they could just go somewhere far away, out of reach from the war and the UNSC and anything else that was painful and lonely. The bone-deep exhaustion she woke up with every day was getting harder and harder to manage, especially alone. She wasn't sure how many more mornings of fighting and losing she could take.

"Does this have to end?"

She suppressed an anxious laugh. Apparently they were on the same wavelength. The question wasn't all that surprising, really, but that didn't stop it from terrifying her.

He must have felt her tense up, and hurried to explain himself. "I don't mean to push you—"

"Yes, you do." She sat up on an elbow to look at him. "And… I want you to." _Understatement of the century._ His eyes light up at her words, and it hurt to even have to say her next ones. "I just don't know if I can let you."

He frowned. "Is there someone else?"

She laughed. What she wouldn't give for _that_ to be her biggest problem.

"Because if there is," he continued, tone lightening. "I can take care of that for you. I am a trained professional, after all."

She looked away. "You _are_ pretty handy with a rifle; I'll give you that." The make and model of his preferred weapon flashed behind her eyes. The numbers and figures she'd made sure to memorise from his dossier before touching down on Castellaneta a week earlier. It could've been an eternity ago for how distant that seemed. A lot had changed since then.

He pulled away from her. "What do you mean?" His eyes narrowed, but he looked more confused than suspicious.

"Forget it." That was her cue to leave. She'd given more than enough away. "Gotta run," Veronica continued, hopping up from the bed. Her whole body felt rubbery and sluggish, and she put her pants on with far less grace than she would've liked.

"Hey, what the hell? Veronica?" Now he sounded hurt. _You should have just_ _ **left.**_ "What's going on?" Eddie jumped up from the bed and started slipping back into his civvies, which had been tossed around the room.

"I couldn't tell you even if I wanted to." She shoved on her shirt, grabbing for her earrings on the nightstand and casting around for anything else she'd left in his room.

"What does that even mean?"

She tried her best to avoid looking at him, sights set on the door— _cut, run, escape._ This had already gotten too messy for her liking.

Eddie stopped her with a firm grip on her arm, forcing her to meet his eyes. She must have looked frenzied. "Hey," he said, face gentle and open and _far_ too damn trusting. "Just tell me what's going on. I can handle it, whatever it is." He gave her a wobbly smile, and it took all she had not to just tell him everything.

"Please don't ask me that," she said instead, biting at the inside of lip to keep from crying. She felt moisture prick at her eyes nonetheless, thoroughly pissing her off. "I can't, Eddie."

He finally looked suspicious, closing off his expression and turning his features ridged. "You're not really a captain, are you?"

She pulled away from his hand and started for the door. God dammit. God _dammit._

"Oh god," he moaned behind her, freezing her for a moment. "You're ONI, aren't you?"

She could just run. Open the door and disappear and not have to answer what was usually a question she could easily lie about.

But the hint of betrayal in his voice cut her hard, and she stopped to look at him. "I just work for them. I'm not my job." She was proud of her career—of all the things she'd done and lives she'd saved—but she was _not_ the reductive gossip that passed around ships like his tone was suggesting.

"So that's what you meant," he continued. "This wasn't really shore leave for you, was it?" His eyes widened. "Holy shit, was _I_ your job?"

"Our week together didn't have to do with work." What _lead_ to said week had, but it was still the truth. "That wasn't an act, Ed."

His face shuffled through a number of emotions, from confusion to betrayal to mistrust, making her wish he didn't have such a shitty poker face. "How am I supposed to believe that? You're a _spook,"_ he said finally, running a hand through his hair and looking around the room, as if searching for moral support.

"I wouldn't lie about that." Her alarm buzzed at her wrist, telling her she had to leave. "Shit, I have to go now."

Buck looked too out of sorts by this point to reply, just standing still and looking a little past her shoulder at something she couldn't see.

It was a perfect exit for her. No more yelling or explaining or looking at his wounded expression. She had to go before she said something they'd both regret.

Then she opened her _goddamn_ mouth again. "It didn't have to end this way."

Her comment pulled him back to the present. His face softened when he looked at her, and he took a tentative step towards her. "It doesn't have to end at all, Veronica," he replied, voice quiet. "We can figure this out. Talk through it, even if it's not for another few weeks. I just—I don't want this to end. Not with you, even—" He waved his hand, gesturing to her. "Even if you are some military spy."

 _Leave leave leave leave_ blared in her head. "Well I do," she forced out, putting on her best resting bitch face. "Goodbye, Buck." She ducked out of the room before she could see his reaction, even though she knew what it must be.

The actual tears didn't come until she was finally on the transport, locked safely away in her own private room. She'd kept it together while she collected her things and forwarded the money to Buck's room to pay for the goddamn table, but the tears came out as a painful sob once she was truly alone.

This _was_ the easier option, she told herself, curling up on the seat. Staying with Eddie only to have him die on some suicide mission a few months later would be infinitely worse than this. They'd lick their wounds and be over it in a few weeks so they could get on with their lives—however much longer either of them had left.


End file.
